Falling In
by GypsyGreen
Summary: Nicholas Miller and Jessica Day struggle to determine what exactly they mean to each other, and along the way discover just what they might be falling in. Nick x Jess, Post 2.22


**A/N: This idea has been floating around in my mind for a while now and so I recently decided I'd just write it out, post it, see what kind of response I get and go from there. Reviews are very much welcome, as they really encourage me to keep writing!**

**Anyways, happy reading! Enjoy!**

Cece was getting married; she was actually going to go through with her decision to wed Shivrang, for better or for worse. And, as if that wasn't news enough, Cece wanted Jess to be her maid of honour. Jess was still half in denial. She thought that perhaps even Cece herself wasn't completely aware of her impending nuptials. But, no matter, the wedding date was set, the ceremony was happening, and Jess was determinedly ready to be the best, most supportive bridesmaid she could be.

In fact, Jess was already quite invested in her role for Cece's big day. As proof of this, Jess had thrown her a bridal shower this very night. Sure, it started out a little rough, but, by the end, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, except for maybe Schmidt who slipped in and out and back in without so much as a few words to Cece, a quick tentative shout-out to Nadia, and some brief, yet slightly excessive, yelling at the entire collective.

Usually, when Schmidt caught the scent of models, he skipped right over his well-rehearsed "seduction" routines to his so-called _perfected_ herding mechanism; but such was not the case tonight. Not only did he manage to outright ignore the congregation of models flooding the apartment, he didn't even express interest in viewing Nick's penis. In hindsight, Jess found this to be extraordinarily weird seeing as it was the topic of most conversation throughout the entirety of the evening and, as far as she knew, it was still on Schmidt's bucket list of things to do before he died.

Currently, Jess was perched on a rickety lawn chair at the far end of the building's roof, alone and wrapped up in a whirlwind of thoughts. Winston was graciously seeing the models and everyone else - but mostly the models - off and Schmidt was no doubt frantically scrubbing the loft down with disinfectants. Cleanliness trumped Cece drama no matter what; in fact, Cece drama probably worsened his OCD tendencies. Jess was avoiding Nick altogether, and hoped he hadn't noticed her hasty exit.

_Goddamn Nicholas Miller._

After their disastrous date night, which, instead of providing clarity, only succeeded in raising more questions in regards to the status of their relationship, he stuck to her middle school dance rules unswervingly. He fully respected her wishes for platonic, grade-school companionship, which led to her wishing on more than one occasion that she never set them in place to begin with. But she had, and now she was dealing with those consequences atop all of her muddled and mixed-up feelings for Nick. She also found herself attempting to open more and more jars of late, particularly when he was nearby. It was almost as if she were tempting him to give in to his feelings first.

Jess desperately wanted to know what Nick wrote on that damn card. For what seemed like the billionth time, she contemplated calling Russell, only to once again quickly abandon the idea. She reminded herself that she didn't _really_ want to find out how Nick felt from some scrap of paper hastily scribbled upon in a spur of the moment idea. She also didn't feel like contacting her ex-boyfriend for information involving her current romantic affair - if one could even call it that. Jess wanted Nick to tell her how he felt, without being pressured or forced into it; she wanted openness and raw honesty. She knew it was a shot in the dark, a toss of the dice, and that the odds were most likely not in her favour. But that didn't stop her from hoping.

_Hope._

She scoffed at the word, the concept, the ultimate idea. What good had hoping done for her in the past? Hope hadn't stopped her parents from getting a divorce. Hope hadn't reignited their love for one another, even after the many hours of creative parent trapping schemes. The most prominent incident ragging on her mind these days, though, was that hope hadn't rearranged the facts or erased the memories of Spencer cheating on her.

All things considered, Jess believed hope to be a relentless bitch that tortured one and all, never stopping to check her rear view mirror to catch a glimpse of all of the damage she left behind in her wake. Hope was as ruthless as destiny, if not more, as hope gave you something tangible to hold onto no matter how fleeting that something might be. And yet here she was, still hoping.

Jess' thoughts wove back to Cece. She always imagined that she would get married before _the_ _Indian Goddess_, as Schmidt dubbed her. Sure, her model friend was beautiful, perfectly sculpted, really, and could easily land herself a husband in all but a second, but Jess figured she wouldn't have wanted to settle down this early, if ever, when the world was still at her fingertips. Jess, on the other hand, had always wanted to meet Mr. Right, buy the cozy house with the white picket fence and then pop out adorable babies to nurture and care for in tandem with her loving husband.

At one time, she envisioned this scenario with Spencer. In fact, she had been confident she was eventually going to get all that she wanted with Spencer. She let herself hope and hope had inevitably disappointed her. Jess tried to bridle her tears, will them away with her mind, but they pricked her eyes nonetheless. She should be happy, ecstatically so, but here she was drudging up terrible memories and making herself cry.

_Spencer: The bastard._

How did she let herself get in so deep while he floated along ready to bail at any moment? How did she miss the cues that spoke of his infidelity? How did she manage to overlook the signs that all was not right in their relationship? Spencer managed to reinforce the fear she had that two people couldn't stay together forever in the grand scheme of things. He made her question the very definition of love. If she hadn't known what love was then, how the hell would she ever know? Was there even such a thing as unending love?

Jess had been down this road before. She'd gone over all of the facts, overturned every rock on this well-worn path, only to come up empty handed each time. Where did she go wrong? She still wasn't exactly sure. All she knew was that Spencer lied about his love for her. For how long remained a mystery, but the point was that he hid his feelings from her, putting up an impenetrable wall between them, just like her _roomfriend_ was doing now.

Nick, unknowingly or not, had built a thick, cement barrier, effectively closing himself off from her. And Jessica Day was tired of wearing her heart on her sleeve, tired of being the one who loved more. She couldn't deal with this again. She couldn't- wouldn't- let herself fall for this again.

Jess let out a frustrated groan, wedging the heels of her hands into her eyes, desperately trying to rid herself of the images and consequent thoughts that kept flooding her tired brain. Why was everything in life so utterly conflicting and complicated? Why couldn't she just simply live and therefore be happy?

As she gazed into the clear, night sky, a symbol of limitless and starry hope, Jess couldn't halt the thoughts that surfaced, thoughts of the night Nick changed everything between them. She trembled at the reminiscence of the feeling of his lips on hers, his mouth passionately consuming hers, his body pressed tightly against hers, his large, warm hands caressing every inch of her back, their intakes of breath, sharp and poignant in the otherwise silent, midnight air. It had all felt so right, the way they perfectly molded together, the urgency of that first kiss followed by the soft coloured undertones of the last two precious pecks. She had never felt so wanted, so cared for and so womanly than in that moment.

That moment brought her unspeakable happiness, and, for the duration, nothing else in the world seemed to matter. This was what had scared her beyond belief, shaking her to her utmost core. She wasn't sure if her heart could handle being so full of joy again only to have it dashed and shredded to pieces once more. True love seemed elusive, if not just a figment of some Hollywood writer's profuse imagination, and she wasn't sure she wanted to delve further into its deceptive realm.

The clearing of a throat broke Jess out of her reveries. Of course it was _him_ who found her.

Nick was careful to not sit too close, and this act alone made her angry.

"I do not want to talk to you, right now," she stated pointedly, looking anywhere but at his face, those eyes, those lips.

"Is this because of the picture, Jess? 'Cause I didn't send it. Winston thought-"

"No, I don't care about the picture." Earlier she made jokes about it, now she just felt stupid for showing how much she cared about anything and everything that was Nick Miller.

"Like, at all?"

Jess rolled her eyes; he would be concerned about what she thought of his junk at this precise moment.

"Just, leave me alone, Nick, please." She looked over at him this time, silently willing him to obey her wishes.

"Ok, but, you're worrying me, Jess." He noted the redness of her eyes, and the sadness, perhaps even wariness, that lay within their depths.

"Well, I don't need you to take care of me, so you can stop worrying, I'm fine." She spoke hurriedly; all the while an overwhelming sense of unease was spreading.

"You don't seem fi-" Nick began but was quickly interrupted.

"I don't need you," Jess huffed, standing abruptly, twisting so that he couldn't see her face, read her vulnerability.

She managed two steps before he cut her off, grabbing her gently by the shoulders, blocking her way.

"Ahem," she nodded towards his hands and he quickly let them drop to his sides, burying them deep in his pockets as he tried to resist his urge to touch her, hold her, comfort her.

His gaze, however, remained steadily focused on her face. She could feel the intensity of his stare burning her, but refused to let her eyes meet his, aware that a singular glance might break down all of her quickly wrought defenses.

"What's wrong, Jess?" Nick finally managed, breaking the deafening silence that had befallen them.

When she didn't answer, he spoke again, this time more quietly, the words almost a whisper, "What did I do, Jess?"

A momentary shock of anger, irrational or not, simmered through her. She was done with this game, as she was most certainly _not_ having a good time with it. If Nick was going to continuously pester her for answers, without supplying any of his own, she sure as hell wasn't going to play along. So she decided one last cryptic comment would be suitable for his already confusing, mind-boggling, riddle-laced character to hear.

"Nothing, Nick. That's what you did. Abso-freaking-lutely nothing. I mean…waiting for you is like waiting for rain in this drought - useless and disappointing." She internally cringed at her use of a Hilary Duff movie quote - she hadn't meant to say it, it had simply poured out of her mouth before she could fully process her words - but quickly recovered. At least it had been somewhat relevant.

"We're not in a drought, Jess - wait- did you just quote _A Cinderella Story_ to me?"

Shit, he wasn't supposed to know where it was from.

"That's not the point, _Miller_," she spoke, her eyes ablaze, her anger refueled by her embarrassment.

"Then what _is_ the point, _Jessica_?" she could hear a tinge of anger seeping into his voice.

"I just - I can't do this again."

And with that she side-stepped him and ran for the exit, giving no heed to his questioning exclamations of her name.

**A/N: Thoughts? Comments? Should I continue? For those wondering, I believe the next chapter I post will be from Sir Nicholas' point of view. **


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